Insecurity
by Erika Darkmoon
Summary: Abused by Marik, Malik has given up all hope of ever being rescued by anyone...except for his secret love Bakura. Longshot. BakuraMalik, MarikAnzu. YAOI ANGST. UNDER CONSTRUCTION/REVISION
1. Reflection

Insecurity

**Insecurity**

**Rated: M**

**Summary: Malik is constantly abused by his brother, Marik, and has given up all hope of ever being loved by anyone, including his secret love, Bakura.**

**Warnings: Yaoi, lime scene (possibly lemon, not sure yet), violence, OOC, swearing, and dark humor.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh. But I own this idea!**

**X**

It was one of those dreary days, where the rain came down in short, torturous bursts, and the very clouds seemed to depress and exhaust the soul. Even though there was a chance of rain, of soaked sandwiches and mushed cookies, some of the students at Domino High School still ate outside during lunch.

Malik was one of those students sitting outside, though apart from a large group, he was still somehow connected. He ate his food without really tasting it, seeming to be lost in thought. Every so often his eyes would flick over to the group, though, and a brief flash of agony and black hatred would wash over his face.

A book slamming down on the table startled him out of his brooding, and he turned to swear at whoever it was, but then stopped when he realized it was Bakura.

"Jesus, Bakura..." Malik muttered, his frayed nerves starting to settle.

Bakura smirked, "You looked like you were thinking too hard. Thinking is bad for you, didn't you know?" He slid onto the bench across from Malik, and nudged the book towards Malik.

Malik pulled the book towards him and grimaced at the subject, "Geometry? Do you need help again?"

Bakura's smirk faded into a frown, "Yeah."

With a sigh Malik flipped the book open to the appropriate page and gave the problems a quick look. He then glanced up at Bakura with an impatient glance, "Well, get over on this side. I'm not doing it for you."

Once Bakura was next to him Malik started to show him how to do the problem, until he was doing the rest of his homework on his own. That left Malik staring over at the group, a dark look stamped on his face.

Bakura glanced up and noticing Malik's expression, looked in the same direction.

"Ah." Bakura gaze drew back to Malik, "Yeah, it sickens me too. I can't believe she's falling for his shit."

Malik ignored the statement and continued to stare at his brother, Marik. How Mazaki Anzu could be so stupid was sometimes beyond him.

Bakura continued, "Honestly, she has the intelligence of a rabid grape."

Blinking, Malik glanced at Bakura and asked, "Where the hell did you get that from?"

Bakura shrugged, "I don't know, just thought of it one day."

With a sour expression Malik responded, "Unfortunately, it's an apt description."

The bell called the end to their freedom, and everyone started to pack up and head back inside. Malik tried to get in last, but because of two stupid freshman he was stuck right behind his brother and Mazaki, who were in the middle of flirting shamelessly.

"So are you going to New Orleans?" Marik asked with a knowing smile.

"Maybe," Anzu replied with a smirk, "are you going too?"

Marik gave her a smirk of his own and replied, "Of course. We should hook up, I can be very fun." He then leaned in and barely whispered, "And I can be very bad."

"Yeah, in bed." Malik muttered, suddenly cringing as Marik glared at him. He thought he'd said it quiet enough so only he could hear it, but apparently that wasn't the case.

"Shut up, bitch." Marik growled.

Before Malik could stop his mouth he retorted, "Huh, I thought _you_ were the bitch in this relationship."

The people that heard howled with laughter, and a few calls of 'burn' echoed through the hallway. Marik ground his teeth together, and Malik felt a cold stone of fear form in his stomach. He knew that right now Marik couldn't do anything, but when they got home, the horrible possibilities were endless.

**X**

"Call _me_ a bitch?! I'll show you who the _bitch_ is!" Malik was beaten into the floor again, his eyes flat and gazing somewhere far off. Marik was beating him with a two-by-four, but Malik really couldn't feel it anymore. Throwing the board aside Marik picked Malik up by his shirt, dragged him over to the door leading into the basement and threw him into it. In a rag-doll tumble Malik fell down the stairs and slammed into the wall where he laid in a crumpled heap. He attempted to get up as Marik stomped down the stairs, only to be flattened to the floor again by Marik's boot in his back.

He heard the jangling of Marik loosening his belt, and expected any second to feel the buckle biting into his back, but instead heard the zipper being pulled down. Malik cringed and tried to brace himself, but he still shuddered when he felt the warm wetness flooding down his neck and face.

"Fuck with me again, little bitch, and I'll kill you." Malik heard Marik tramp up the stairs and slam the door. The loud click of the lock engaging echoed throughout the basement, and Malik pushed himself up into a sitting position. Tears were pouring down his face, mixing with the already drying urine, but he didn't dare sob. With a grunt of pain he pulled himself up and using the wall as a support he hobbled over to the cot that served as his bed. Hidden in the lumpy stained mattress was a bottle of water and some food that Malik had stolen from the school. He pulled out the bottle of water and wetting the corner of the thin piece of cloth that he laughingly called a blanket, he started to clean off his face.

_Why me? Why is it always _me_? Why can't it be that fucking brat three doors down? Or that stupid bitch across the street that's always looking for a boyfriend?_ Malik put the blanket down and hid the water bottle again. Lying back on his cot he started to brood.

_It didn't used to be like this, did it? We used to fight, sometimes he'd pick on me, but we still got along._ Malik turned over onto his side, grinding his teeth and glaring at the wall. _It's all because you died Isis. Why did you leave me with him? I hate you..._ But he felt a pang of sorrow as he thought this, and quickly he thought, _I'm sorry, Isis. I don't hate you...I just...I hate him. I hate everyone. I wish I could've died with you so I wouldn't have to go through this shit._

He probably had homework to do, but the locked door indicated that he would be forced to do it last minute tomorrow morning. So Malik pulled the 'blanket' over himself and clamping his hands into his armpits he daydreamed that Bakura was in the bed with him, his arms surrounding him, making him feel safe.

"You are something I can never have, but I can dream." Malik whispered quietly, letting his eyes close, pretending he could feel the slow, hot breath of Bakura on his ear. Slowly he let himself drift, so that what he felt solidified and felt real, even if they were only a dream.

**X**

Erika: So, I finally decided to go through this and revise it because it sucked. Great idea, but really rough. So hopefully this version will read better. :


	2. Escape

It was either the characteristic squeak of the third step or the light breathing that had Malik awake and standing at attention. He wasn't fast enough though, to attempt to block the fist traveling towards his face. As it connected he did something of a pirouette and then started to collapse to the ground. Marik grabbed Malik before he hit the ground and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Marik carried him up the stairs and then dumped him unceremoniously onto the cracked linoleum floor. Malik stayed where he was, knowing better than to try to get up. He knew that whatever Marik had in mind would only worsen if he tried to stand and take it. He could only prepare himself mentally for whatever it was, and then even though he wouldn't really feel the pain, he could still cry and scream.

Marik shoved his foot underneath Malik's back and flipped him over onto his stomach. In his hand was a makeshift brand, made of out paperclips and a coat hanger. Malik noticed with a detached bemusement that the brand was glowing red, and he only realized how much this was going to hurt when the brand was already pressing into his hip and he could smell how sweet his skin was when it was cooking. He could hear the sizzling the fat and oils made as they were burned.

Malik thought Marik was screaming, and after a few seconds realized that he was screaming as fast as he could draw breath and oh my god his hip hurt so much his hip was on fire oh my god he was going to die - and all the sudden it stopped and he was swimming in this darkness, swimming up _from_ the darkness into something like awareness.

He was in the shed, and his arms hurt terribly, but his hip burned. Somewhere in some insignificant part of his mind he realized that he must have a concussion, that Marik must've kicked him in the head or something. He lost time swimming into that darkness, and Marik was back in the shed with him, wrapping duct tape around his mouth. Marik was saying something, but Malik couldn't seem to understand any of it. Marik was suddenly gone and the lighting in the shed seemed to be all off, which was rather bizarre, because Malik could've sworn that he only blinked. His head didn't just ache, but felt like it was about explode. It was like someone had decided that his head was a zit that was ready to popped and there was just this squeezing that wouldn't stop. Malik blinked again, and this time the lighting was off again, but he could think somewhat clearly. He was handcuffed in the shed, his hip was burnt, and he had a concussion. From some distant memory he could remember Marik's malevolent voice saying something about, "A whole week to fast and pray upon your sins".

Malik chewed on that thought for a while, and finally figured out that he was going to die in the shed unless he got out. Marik would be gone for a week, so there would be no food, no water, no sustenance of any kind. Slowly he looked up at his wrists, and saw that they were handcuffed around the wooden leg of an old table. Giving a jerk on the cuffs, he realized that although the table looked old, there was no way that leg was going to break anytime soon. With that plan out of commission, he glanced around, hoping to see something of use.

Nothing. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Malik glanced at the table leg again, and then looked at what was on the table. If he could shimmy the chain down, and somehow lift the table up far enough, he could get free. Then all he would have to do is find the key to the cuffs. Wasn't there a spare in the kitchen? Malik was sure there was, but if he was wrong, then he was in deep shit. But, first, he had to get free. Malik started to slouch down and realized that doing so wouldn't work, so he went the opposite way. Using his shoulders against the lip of the table he pushed up with his knees and tried to detach his arms from his sockets. Grunting, he shoved up with his shoulders and quickly falling to the floor he scooted forward, trying to get the chain out before the table came crashing down. For a horrifying second he thought the chain had got caught underneath the leg, for his arms wouldn't move, when suddenly they could move without any resistance. He was grinning underneath the duct-tape, and he now shoved his way out of the shed, across the back yard and into the house.

Stumbling into the kitchen, almost graying out, he saw the key just sitting on the counter, gleaming silver in the afternoon light (for the microwave clock showed 1:47).

Malik somehow grabbed the key off the counter (it seemed really high for some reason), and he got the key into the lock, unlocked it and took the cuffs off himself and then he _did_ gray out.

When he drifted back up from the fog someone was knocking on the front door, and the clock showed 2:00. Malik grasped the counter above him and pulled himself up, his hip screaming at the effort. He dimly realized that he still had duct tape around his mouth, and he peeled it off, bits of lip and skin going with it. Shuffling to the front door he opened it, not really knowing who it was, and almost graying out again when he saw that it was Bakura standing in the doorway, a smirk on his face. Malik did his best to look normal, but he could see from Bakura's fading expression that he looked worse for wear. Malik could feel himself graying out again, and although he tried to push off the persistent fog he felt himself falling down, and then felt himself being carried away.

X

The afternoon sun glinted off the young man's white hair as he walked down the street at a leisurely pace. He'd gotten a few looks from people, but for the most part he was left alone. Bakura was happy to be enjoying the day, instead of sitting in some dreary ass classroom, learning geometry (the bane of his existence), and watching Marik and Anzu passing notes to each other. He wondered what Malik was doing, wondered if Malik was even at school, so he turned right onto the next street and continued to stroll towards the pale yellow house with the unkempt hedges. He bypassed the little walkway leading to the front door and instead jumped over a hedge and up the stairs. Bakura smirked and started to knock, wondering if anyone was home. He had known Malik to skip some days, and today he might just get lucky.

Hearing footsteps inside Bakura stopped knocking, trying to think of some witty line to use just to be funny, when the door opened and his heart about stopped. Malik wasn't leaning against the doorpost but practically clutching it to keep him upright. Blonde hair matted with blood, his clothes disheveled, and his beautiful violet eyes had a flat, vacant look to them. Not for long, though, as Malik's eyes rolled back into his head and he started to fall forward. Bakura leapt forward, catching Malik, his breath coming in fast hitches as anger started to course through him.

Bakura picked Malik up, and slung him around so that he was giving him a piggyback ride. The whole walk home he kept running scenarios through his mind, trying to think of any reasons why Malik looked like this. One possibility kept shoving through, but he didn't want to acknowledge it. Reaching his home he opened the door and carried Malik up to his room, laying him on his bed. For once he was happy that he'd taken a first aid class, and after getting the kit he started to work on Malik, becoming more worried at each bruise, cut, scar, and burn he kept finding. After treating everything that could be treated Bakura sat down next to Malik, gazing at the wounds, and hoping to whatever reigned above that Malik would be okay.


	3. Purgatory

Eggs, that's what the air smelled like. Malik hated eggs, always had since he was small. They smelled bad, and they made him sick. The fact that they came from a chicken's ass made it less appealing to eat.

It was too bright, wherever the hell he was, and that was even more disorienting than what he smelled. Marik never made eggs, because Marik hated them too. It was the one (and only) thing that they agreed on. Furthermore his room in the basement had no windows. Eventually, by the process of elimination, Malik realized that he obviously was not in his home (though it could hardly be called such a thing).

Malik chanced a peek as to where he was and quickly shut his eyes again. Maybe he was dead, and now was in hell. After all, he hated eggs, and here the smell was permeating the air. Malik decided that he must have died in the kitchen after taking off the handcuffs. When he had 'awoken', he probably was on the path to hell. Falling into Bakura's arms was probably just some asshole in hell deciding to torment him.

_I never did get to lie in his arms..._ Malik thought sadly. _If this is all hell has to offer though, then this is almost heaven compared to being alive._

After all, Marik would never go to hell (as much as Malik would've liked him to), so if there was no Marik, then it really wasn't that bad. Malik opened his eyes again, observing the drab room. The bed was comfortable, and the only other item of furniture was a dresser. Blinding white walls and a pile of clothes in the corner, it was as desolate as a desert.

Malik sat up, and finally decided to see where the smell of eggs was coming from. For all he knew instead of hell, this might be purgatory. His body ached, especially his head, and when he stood up the world spun like a merry-go-round from hell. Malik took his time down the stairs, grasping the railing so he wouldn't fall over as the world danced crazily around him. As he neared the kitchen, the smell got stronger, so strong that Malik almost dry-heaved.

Although Malik felt like shit, he could never remember feeling so relaxed or calm, especially at the same time. It definitely proved he was dead, and it proved the theory that he was most likely in purgatory or hell. When he rounded the corner into the kitchen though, all of his theories dissipated as he saw the person cooking the eggs was, in fact, Bakura.

**X**

_Jeeze, I hope he likes eggs..._ I thought while scrambling said eggs in a pan. _Argh, who _doesn't_ like eggs? Why the fuck am I making eggs for him anyway? Yeah, okay, he was obviously fucked up like no other, but for christ sake, it's not like I'm his..._ My thought trailed off as I heard a gasp behind me. Whirling around I saw Malik standing in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at me in shock.

Disgruntled I muttered, "What? Never seen a guy cook eggs before?"

Malik's shocked expression flitted into a look of confusion, "Yeah...but, why the hell are _you_ in purgatory? You're not dead..."

"Yeah, and neither are you. Granted, you have a really bad concussion, but you're far from dead."

Malik gazed at me with a flat expression, then closing his eyes he sighed, "Shit, there goes that happy feeling."

Shock turned to outrage but I decided to push that away for now. Sighing I asked, "Do you want some eggs?"

"No," He replied wearily, "I hate eggs."

Getting annoyed again I inquired, "Do you want anything?"

Malik shook his head and sat down at the table, putting his head in his hands. With an exasperated sigh I sat on the opposite side of the table and stared at him. After a long silence he finally muttered, "What?"

"Why would you rather be de- no, scratch that. I'm pretty sure I know the answer to that question." I glared at his lowered head, "Why do you hate eggs?"

Those violet eyes looked up at me in disbelief, "Huh?"

"Why do you hate eggs?" I persisted, "Everyone likes eggs."

Eyes narrowed he responded, "Well, obviously everyone doesn't if I don't like them."

"You're avoiding the question."

"And you're annoying."

"Just answer the damn question!" I retorted caustically.

"I just don't like them, okay?!" He snapped, "They make me sick." Putting his head back in his hands Malik muttered, "Just leave me alone."

"I would have if you hadn't fallen into my arms at your doorstep. But, you did, so I brought you home because I figured that you and Marik were not just scuffling like brother's do. He's abu-"

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW?!" Amethyst eyes blazing, the chair he had been sitting in shoved over, he pounded a fist on the table as a shriek of inarticulate rage spilled from this throat.

I watched in shock as he tore at his hair and punched at the wall, leaving impressions of his knuckles.

"Malik! Calm down!" Grabbing his arms I pinned them to his sides and he crumpled in my grasp, becoming dead weight. Holding him up I lowered him to the floor and he drew himself up into a ball, crying.

_What should I do? Oh my gawd, what do I do in this situation?_ I'd never seen anyone like this, and the fact that he was my best friend wasn't making it any easier.

"Malik?" I inquired, "Malik...please stop crying."

He continued to cry and not knowing what else to do I picked him up by the shoulders and hugged him.

_Awkward..._ Malik was now crying into my chest, my shirt sopping wet from his tears.

He sobbed some words, though I didn't quite catch them, but he sobbed them again, and I heard it this time.

"Please don't hate me."


	4. Repose

Malik was asleep again in my bedroom; his crying had worn him out. I, however, was sitting on the couch, head thrown back, attempting to untangle all the knots within my mind. If there was ever a more confused person in history, I truly gave them my sympathies.

_Should I call some child protection thing? No, they would never be able to prove that Marik was abusing Malik. He's too smart to be caught like that. Not to mention that Malik would hate me for doing that. I can't understand how he can hate Marik, yet want to protect his brother at the same time. Not wanting him to get in trouble, but wanting him to die._ I propped my head on my hands, the heels of my palms digging into my eyes. _What a stupid contradiction, and a stupid way to think. First things first, I need to get Malik to open up. Maybe if I can get Malik happy, or, I don't know,_ something _then he'll confess against Marik._

I felt a twinge of guilt when my thoughts echoed in my head, because I sounded like I didn't care if Malik was happy just to be happy. It sounded more like I wanted him to open up so he'd get revenge against Marik. Yeah, I hated Marik to the point of wanting to break his neck, _And how easy it would be to just walk up behind him in the locker room when he wasn't suspecting and - shit, okay, need to focus. What would Malik like to do? What does he like? Fuck!_ I fell over onto my side on the couch and stared blankly at the TV. _What would I like to do if I was in his position? If I was free? _I rolled over onto my back and gazed at the patterns in the ceiling, letting ideas come and go until one caught my interest.

I had a plan.

X

Malik jolted up in an explosive gasp, only to fall back onto the bed with a groan as he realized that it was just a nightmare. He glanced over at the dresser and let out another groan, realizing that it was only four in the morning. He caught sleep when he could take it, and even though he was free from Marik, he still felt that at any second Marik was going to pop out of the closet and snatch him away. With a shiver he lay in bed for a while longer, blushing as he remembered sobbing in Bakura's arms.

_I can't believe he saw me like that._ Malik shook his head, trying to crush the feeling of embarrassment.

Swinging his legs out of the bed he made his way out of his room and down the stairs. The smell of eggs lingered faintly, but it didn't make him sick now. Malik was so hungry he could've eaten a whole carton of eggs.

He felt absolutely horrible, though, as he rifled through the cabinets stealthily. Finally, he found a pop tart, the last one, and pulling the foil off Malik wolfed it down. His hunger somewhat sated, still licking pop tart crumbs off his lips, Malik threw the garbage in the trash and started to explore the house.

He found Bakura in the living room, asleep on the couch, snoring slightly. Malik's lips formed a soft smile and grabbing an old quilted blanket he draped it over Bakura, trying not to wake him. Bakura only murmured in his sleep and drew the blanket around himself. Hunkering down, Malik gazed at Bakura's sleeping face.

_So peaceful._ His hand reached out and brushed some of Bakura's hair back from his forehead. Murmuring again Bakura captured Malik's hand with his hand and kept it against his face. Malik froze at the feeling of Bakura's hand on top of his, but with another mutter Bakura let go. Malik slowly pulled his hand back, but he stayed where he was, staring at his hand.

"Malik." Startled, nearly jumping out of his skin Malik's eyes darted to Bakura. He relaxed slightly when he saw that Bakura was still asleep. He stayed still, waiting to see if Bakura would speak again, but when he didn't Malik decided to sleep next to the couch. It was too scary up in Bakura's bedroom, too many places that Marik could hide. Down here next to Bakura was definitely safer. Bakura would keep him safe.

X

A shaft of golden sunlight hit my face, shattering my dreams into a million pieces. Blinking, my hand shading my eyes, I almost stepped on Malik when I got off the couch.

He was curled up next to the couch, clutching part of the blanket he must have covered me with in the middle of the night.

_He's cute._ I thought, smiling. Picking him up I settled him onto the couch. Pulling down the window blinds I went upstairs into the office to go do some research on the internet.

_We're going to have fun today._


End file.
